and i'll come home to you
by QueenPersephoneofHades
Summary: And war or no war, Jedi or no Jedi, late or not late, they were together for now. They were finally home.


Council meetings are boring.

This is a well-known, widely accepted fact in the Jedi Order; just because no one says anything about it doesn't make it any less true, no matter what Obi-Wan says.

Council meetings are boring, and more often than not, they're also agonizingly _long_.

Anakin is well aware that showing any sort of negative emotion in the Council chamber often led to bothersome queries from the Jedi Masters and sometimes rather embarrassing encounters with Obi-Wan or Ahsoka after they were free to go, but today he couldn't really help it; though he has long since stamped out the habit of shifting from foot to foot in impatience from his Padawan days, he was still not quite as adept at hiding his twitchiness within the Force.

Despite his very best efforts to shield his growing agitation from the droning Masters around him, he does not miss the rather vicious stink-eye Mace Windu gave him, or the placid raised eyebrow on Master Yoda's wrinkly green face.

"Something wrong, Skywalker?" Windu asked just as Master Mundi finishes his half of the report, and, as he'd expected, all attention was now on him, Obi-Wan's laser-focused senses zeroing in on his former Padawan's discomposure with the ease of long practice. Anakin has to quickly squash down the urge to grimace as Ahsoka's curious mind draws closer to his over their bond, also sensing his unease but not nearly as bothered by it as Obi-Wan is.

"Not at all, Master Windu," he said calmly, sending the impression of a serene smile to both his Master and his Padawan; from the latter he gets simple bemusement, from the former a mental eye-roll of epic proportions. "I merely remembered a prior engagement I had agreed to earlier; if I had known how the mission would conclude, I would have moved the timetable to another day."

Not the most subtle ' _get a move on_ ' in the history of the Republic, but being good with words is Obi-Wan's job. Anakin Skywalker is not subtle.

In fact, Anakin Skywalker would like to get home to his beautiful wife in time for their preplanned date, so if you people could just _hurry up-_

"With you, no more issues to discuss, we have," Yoda's throaty voice interrupted Windu's thunderous expression and no-doubt stinging retort. The little troll seemed as content as ever, perhaps, dare he say it, even a little amused at the Corellian Jedi's already fading irritation. "Go, you and your Padawan may, Skywalker."

Anakin was sure to keep all of the relief out of his voice when he bowed to the diminutive Jedi and said, "Thank you, Master Yoda."

He waited exactly two seconds for Ahsoka to echo his sentiments before he's out the door of the Council chamber, taking long, measured strides to the elevator that leads down to the main nexus of the Temple.

He knows such an abrupt exit will only earn him a long and hearty lecture from Obi-Wan later, but right now, he can't bring himself to care; he knew the sun had set some time ago, but as he checked the chrono in the elevator, he couldn't help cringing terribly.

He was _so_ late. Padme was not going to be happy.

"So what was that all about?" The voice made him jump, staring at his innocently blinking Padawan as if she'd teleported to his side. To be fair, it seemed like it; he hadn't even noticed her following right on his heels into the lift, her shorter legs making her nearly sprint to keep up and not be left behind.

Anakin managed not to stammer like a youngling, which was nice. "Oh, nothing, Snips. I just had an agreement to help someone earlier, but I already missed the time we were supposed to meet-" He checked the time again, sighed, shook his head. "- by about four hours. Next time, remind me when there's a Council meeting in advance, alright? Making appointments is impossible with them breathing down my neck."

"Ex _cuse_ me? _Who_ is supposed to be the Master here?" Ahsoka retorted, crossing her arms and giving him an audacious look. " _You're_ the one who has to memorize Council meetings, not me!"

He mock glared at her, which only made her smirk wider. "You know I'm no good with remembering stuff like that! Give me the schematics for a droid command ship, fine, I can sneak us in and out again in fifteen minutes; but Council meetings? No thanks! I think I've grown so adverse to them that I just repress all memory of them until they're staring me in the face."

The hiccup-laugh Ahsoka unsuccessfully tried to hide behind her hand would be deemed incredibly improper by any other Jedi in the Order, but not Anakin; he just grins widely at his Padawan, secretly wishing such displays were more common between him and his own former Master.

Hell, he wished such things happened more often between him and Padme; with long periods of separation and only brief moments of reunion in between Senate meetings and battlefields alike that held the fate of the Republic in their hands, happy, carefree times of light and banter were very few and far between indeed, cast aside in favor of reacquainting themselves with each other's bodies and their desperate need for closeness after so long alone.

But ruminating on such things would have to wait; Ahsoka had noticed something was wrong again – he really _was_ distracted if his frustrations were that obvious to her – but before she could manage to drudge up something to say, the lift finally reached the ground floor and he was suddenly moving toward the Temple hangar bay, intent on finding himself a speeder and getting to the Senate Apartment Complex as fast as possible, air traffic rules be damned.

He does not heed Ahsoka's call of farewell; he'll apologize for the utter lack of manners later.

Right now, all that mattered was that he is four and a half hours late, and his wife was waiting for him.

* * *

Threepio is the one who greeted him when he finally arrives in a flurry of screeching speeder brakes and half-wrinkled Jedi robes that nearly tripped him up for the first time in years in his haste to exit the vehicle.

"Mistress Padme waited up for quite a long time, Master Ani," the gold-plated droid assured him as his hurried steps bring him to the dining room, despite the lights all being off; he knows his way by heart now. "She was quite insistent, you see, but about half a standard hour ago she retreated to her room. She did not say anything, but I do believe she was most upset! And the food has gone utterly cold, dear me; shall I have it heated up, sir?"

"That's fine, Threepio," Anakin said faintly, giving the droid a flat smile. "You're dismissed for the night, thank you."

He tuned out his creation's tutting reply as he reaches the darkened dining room, eyes already adjusted to the dim lighting enough to take in the blown out candles, the clearly untouched dishes, the small vat of Pantoran sweet ice left out to melt into a sticky mess upon the tablecloth.

All thoughts of boring Council meetings and annoying Jedi Masters, playful banter and laughing Padawans fled his head in a heartbeat as he lightly leans his fist against the open doorway, guilt and anger making his shoulders tremble.

He'd kept her waiting again. He'd made her wait so long she'd thought he wasn't coming and she'd _given up waiting._

What kind of a husband was he?

" _E chu ta,_ " he growled, and punched the doorframe for good measure, but all this did was make his hand hurt and his frustration grow exponentially.

He should have _been here._

She _always_ made it on time to their secret rendezvous', no matter what nonsense the Galactic Senate tried to pull in the meantime. He was barely ever on the same planet as her, and when he was, he couldn't even manage this one simple thing?

The outrage he felt at the Council's ridiculous unnecessarily lengthy sessions paled in comparison to the fury he felt toward himself.

The swirling pool of frustration and self-recrimination abruptly dissipated as he wandered down the main corridor and reached the bedroom door, which opened with a silent woosh, allowing his wife's presence to flood over his senses and knock the wind out of him.

Padme was most often a distant beacon on his horizon, so much so that just being in the same room as her was _intoxicating_.

The stiffness in his shoulders melted away as he took a moment to just stand in the doorway and try to _breathe_.

Oh, he's missed this, missed _her_ , so much; late or not, he was going to savor this as long as he could.

The long-since familiar squeeze around his heart lessens as he catches sight of his wife's lithe form, curled up just so underneath the expensive synth-silk sheets she'd had imported directly from Naboo.

Just the sight of her, radiant as the sun in the dim light seeping through the window and far more beautiful than she'd been that day in the meadow with her hair sleep tussled and her face lax in her dreamless state, was more soothing to his nerves than weeks of meditation and tinkering had ever been.

All of the self-disgust, the anger – at the Jedi, at the war, at the universe itself – all of the fear of crippling their already stressful marriage; it faded into the far back of his mind, not forgotten – _never gone_ – but buried under the surging rush of love and relief and pure, undiluted _joy_.

His angel, alive and well, fighting the good fight every day as he did, but as far away from the real and bloody battlefields as can be. She was okay. She was _safe_.

She wasn't a delicate flower by any definition; if she could handle the Senate and all the vipers within, she could handle one missed date.

Inwardly boggling at his earlier paranoia, he cast aside his troubles along with most of his clothes, tiptoeing closer to the bed as the complicated layers of his Jedi robes one by one fell to the floor, he not caring in the slightest if they got dirty or wrinkled.

He toed his boots off carefully; he placed his lightsaber in its place on the nightstand where he could easily summon it if need be.

Finally free of all distractions, Anakin lifted the covers and slid underneath them with far more stealth than most people would have expected from the bold and brash Hero With No Fear, silently sliding as closer to his peacefully slumbering wife.

It didn't matter how stealthy he was; Padme began to stir before he even dared to touch her, as if she herself had the ability to sense him in the Force.

"Ani?" the sleepy murmur made the guilt at making her wait so long pop back up with a vengeance, and the warm smile he'd tried for became more of an unfortunate grimace.

"Yeah," he whispered, pressing his lips softly to her temple. "I'm late. Again."

The snort he got in response finally got a grin out of him. "No kidding."

"I'm sorry-" His apology is interrupted by a hand finding his flesh wrist and squeezing gently.

"Don't be," Padme murmured, shifting around until she was facing her husband with wide brown eyes and a tired smile that made his heart flutter. "It's not your fault."

Her reassurance is appreciated, but… he sighed helplessly. "I'm sorry," he repeated anyway.

Her stern glare was marred only by the quiet upturn of her lips. "Dinner doesn't matter. You made it; that's enough for me."

A lecture like that, from anyone else, would have made him protest profusely; here and now, with her, all he did was shift around restlessly.

"Maybe," he acquiesced, drawing closer to her warmth slowly. "Go back to sleep, angel. We can-"

"Now hold on a second!" The hand holding his wrist suddenly tightens like a durasteel clamp, her dreamy smile solidifying into something distinctly _different_ that made his mouth go dry. "Where's the fun in sleep?" she scoffed, shimmying closer to him with a coy smirk. "You're finally here. And you have to make up for making me wait!"

The new spark in her eyes was enough to make the breath catch in Anakin's throat, a tremulous smile growing ever larger on his face. "If you insist, my lady," he said teasingly, and her seductive look broke into a half-muffled giggle that made his soul sing.

He lifted his free hand – the one not currently being clutched in hers – his mechanical hand, and felt irrationally afraid and insecure as he always did when they got to this point; what if he hurt her? What if this time they were finally caught in the act? What had he ever done to deserve such a loving, forgiving woman; after everything he'd done, on and off the battlefield, would he ever be worthy of this ethereal goddess that had stolen his heart?

She saw his hesitation, understood it; she gently laced her free fingers with his own metal digits, levity fading in the wake of her husband's invisible distress.

"It's okay," she whispered, and he fell in love all over again.

Their lips met as if for the first time all over again, exhilarating and terrifying and so, so _right_.

And war or no war, Jedi or no Jedi, late or not late, they were together for now. They were finally home.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh HELL. This ship is eating me alive! This was supposed to be cutesy but then angst appeared. Lots and lots of angst and introspective Anakin and caring Padme and** _ **these guys give me a lot of feels okay?!**_ **Okay. Good. Happy Valentines Day!  
~Persephone**


End file.
